


Ruthie

by Kat_Rowe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Baby Animals, Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Unless you don't want it to be, and feelings, but mostly just the ineffable duo bonding over taking care of a baby animal, including eyeliner on men, lots and lots of very soft feelings, not the first decade Crowley's worn eyeliner in, platonic, the 1980s, then definitely preship, with all its mad fashion choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe
Summary: In the mid 1980s, Crowley brings an injured baby animal to the bookshop and he and Aziraphale nurse it back to health. In the process, Aziraphale gets to see a side to Crowley that he hadn't fully experienced before, and gains a slightly deeper understanding of his oldest friend.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37





	Ruthie

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers, if you’ve never seen a wild boar piglet, I’ll wait here while you google the images. SO. FREAKING. CYOOT.
> 
> I had a hard time not quoting the Book Of Ruth in this one, but… yeah. Aziraphale may be in denial but, realistically, he went full on Ruth-for-Naomi (“Where you go I will go, where you stay I will stay“ etc etc etc) long before the 1980s when the fic takes place. Heck, however long he denied it, he was irretrievably Lost the second Crowley not only saved him from having to do extra paperwork but also saved his BOOKS. Although, all that occurred to me only after I had settled on the name Ruthie for the piglet.
> 
> Credit/blame to Vicky who loves, in equal measure, her piggles and her fluff. You asked for this, and therefore it’s all your fault. Enjoy <3
> 
>  **CONTENT WARNING:**  
>  Mention of violence towards animals (no animals harmed during the fic, but it does revolve around an animal that was injured by humans prior to the start of the fic. Spoiler: she’ll be fine.) 
> 
> Also my really terrible German. I did my best and it’s only two sentences, but sorry, I haven’t spoken or written German in 25 years. Sorry if I mangled it too badly.

Aziraphale was in the habit of hoarding books the way some humans did material wealth. But, even so, parting with one to a truly appreciative customer could be a genuine delight. So he smiled happily as he carefully wrapped the volume he’d just sold and gave the young collector instructions on reading and storing it safely. Bless him, he even scribbled down a few notes on his receipt before almost reverentially accepting the volume. The angel had spent six months hunting down a copy, and it was lovely to have that time and effort repaid with such gratitude. 

Thanking him profusely, the lad turned to go, yelping as he plowed into the tall, redheaded man who had appeared as if out of thin air. Well, ‘man’ was a bit of a stretch, but his customer couldn’t have known that. He was dressed mostly in black with traces of red, as usual, with adjustments for current ‘fashion’ sensibilities. Jeans that were far too tight, an equally-tight shirt with just one too many of the buttons undone, slight heels on his snakeskin boots, red lips, and probably a bit of eyeliner under his sunglasses. 

The demon was holding a cardboard box in both hands and, as the young human sputtered out an apology, he smiled in answer. It was a sharkish smile, all teeth and chilliness. The man’s breath caught in his throat and he forgot to breathe for a moment, then he shook himself, and sidled quickly past. 

Stepping around Crowley and smiling reassuringly at the young human, Aziraphale escorted him to the door and outside, thanking him again. Glancing around the bookstore quickly to make sure they were alone, he smiled curiously up at his friend. 

“Hello, Crowley. What’s that?” he added, gesturing to the box. “Have you brought me pastries?” Remembering the smile he’d given the poor human boy, he added, “Should I be worried about what the catch is?”

“Uh, no, sorry. No pastries.” He cleared his throat, smiling apologetically. “Pastries next time, I promise.”

“Next time, then. Why don’t you come into the back room? I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

“No wine, thanks. Actually, I was wondering…”

“Hmm?” he asked, putting up the ‘closed’ sign and drawing the shades. 

“You read a lot. Know much about animals?”

“Well, a bit, I suppose. Why?” His smile slipped a bit as he eyed the box again. At least there hadn’t been any other customers present. Something told him that things were about to get interesting, and not necessarily in a good way. “Crowley, what _do_ you have in there?”

Looking a little embarrassed, the demon set the box down on an empty bit of countertop and reached for the lid. “It’s a long story. I’d prefer if you didn’t ask for too many details.” 

Making a noncommittal noise, Aziraphale stepped close, peering into the box as the lid was removed. The creature inside was adorable, or it would have been if it hadn’t been covered in blood. Small, furry, brown, and striped, the little piglet lay at the bottom of the box, looking dazed. 

“Oh, my!” he gasped, reaching quickly into the box, running his fingers lightly over the poor creature’s body in search of injuries. 

“I’ve already healed her,” Crowley told him, making a sound between a huff and a growl. “But I don’t have half the practice at healing that you do. I must be missing something. She won’t move and I can’t get her to eat.”

Aziraphale sighed at that, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. It wasn’t like Crowley to do a bad job at healing. He could raise the bloody dead! “Bring her upstairs. We’ll see what we can manage together.”

“I’m not the one who did this to her,” the demon added, a bit unnecessarily, as he picked up the box again. 

“Of course you didn’t. Not your style at all,” he answered, following him to the little flat upstairs. “Bring her into the bathroom. We’ll get that blood washed off for a start. The matted fur can’t be comfortable for her.”

He went to the sink and turned on the water, testing the temperature before nodding to Crowley. The little creature fit neatly into his cupped hands, and he was surprisingly tender as he carried it over and held it under the warm water while Aziraphale gently washed its fur. The little dear couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old, and she’d been badly injured not too long ago. But Crowley had healed away every hurt, or at least every physical one. Perhaps because he had less practice at reading emotions, he hadn’t noticed what was really wrong with the poor thing. 

She’d spent literally her entire existence in direct physical contact with her mother and half a dozen siblings, and now she was isolated and afraid. Aziraphale had felt soul-crushing loneliness from enough humans to be able to recognize it in animals as well. 

“The linen closet is in the hall,” he told Crowley, gently relieving him of the unmoving piglet. “If you could bring me the softest blanket you can find there?”

He nodded, quickly stepping into the hallway. 

Sighing, Aziraphale stared down at the little piglet, whispering, “I know it hurts, dear one. Being alone always does. But you’re safe now, and you won’t be alone forever.” 

“Is she all right?” Crowley asked as he entered the bathroom again, holding a blanket. “I couldn’t find any other injuries, but obviously something’s wrong.” 

“She’s cold and lonely, that’s all,” the angel assured him, reaching for a towel and gently patting the piglet dry. “I assume the rest of her litter didn’t make it?”

He shook his head, unfolding the blanket and looking angry at that. He’d always had a soft spot for the young, even if he seldom let it show. “No, nor the mother.” 

“She’s never been alone before, not for a moment.”

“Ah,” the demon answered, clearing his throat and looking away for a moment. Drawing a deep breath, he began, “Will she…”

“She’ll be fine,” Aziraphale assured him, gently swathing the piglet in the blanket. “But she’s cold. Very young mammals have trouble regulating their own temperature.” 

“Best give her to me, then. Angels aren’t exactly known for generating vast amounts of spare heat. I knew having Hellfire in my veins would come in handy one day.”

“Thank you.” Smiling warmly, he gently transferred the blanket-wrapped animal into Crowley’s outstretched hands. He did not, of course, have actual Hellfire in his veins, but he did have quite a high body-temperature. Higher than a human’s, and _much_ higher than Aziraphale’s. “I know a human who knows a bit about pigs. They’re generally omnivorous, I believe, but I imagine ones this young might have some dietary limitations. I’ll call and check while you warm this little gem up.” 

Nodding, the demon headed into the living room and dropped onto the sofa, gently poking at the pig’s mouth with one finger and grimacing when she immediately started to suck it. “She’ll need a bottle, I think.”

“There’s a pet store just around the block that should have bottles. I can be there and back in fifteen minutes. For that matter, if they don’t have everything we need, I can still be anywhere else and back in fifteen minutes,” he pointed out, smiling and walking over to the telephone. “Guten tag, Frauline Emily!” he greeted the human when she answered the phone. 

“Herr Fell? _Ezra_ Fell? Oh! Wie kann ich lhnen helfen? Wie geht es dir?“ she asked, her voice as slow and careful as if she knew he hadn’t heard or spoken German in decades. 

Which was a relief. But, slow and deliberately unaccented or not, her words were full of a warmth that hadn’t dimmed in the decades since he’d performed the minor miracle that had saved her life as a girl.

The discussion didn’t last long, but Aziraphale learned a good deal, and secured a promise from the human to look after the piglet just as soon as she could be brought to Germany, where Emily still lived. Thanking her profusely, he hung up and turned back toward Crowley, biting his lip at the sight that met him. The sunglasses were off, but he’d been right; heavy black eyeliner with just a trace of red at the corners. It reminded him of Egypt, honestly, but that wasn’t what really got his attention. The demon had unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, and was holding the little piglet directly against his bare, warm skin, the blanket draped over them both with just her little nose sticking out. 

He should have felt confused to see a demon behaving so compassionately, he knew, but Crowley had always had that streak in him. How many times had he saved Aziraphale, after all, despite the angel being incapable of really dying, or even being seriously incapacitated? How often had he questioned or bemoaned acts of cruelty, human and Divine? It was unnerving to admit, but the demon could be kinder than some angels. At times, when he thought no one was looking, he could even be kinder than most humans.

“I’ll run down to the pet store and get some bottles for her. Shall I pour you a drink before I go?” he offered. 

“Please do.”

“Wine, or something stronger?”

“A good scotch, if you have one. Makes the skin warmer, you know.”

Aziraphale smiled at that, heading into his kitchen and retrieving his best bottle of scotch, bringing it and a water glass back into the living room. Stealing a glance down at the piglet as he poured a drink for his friend, he saw it utterly relaxed against the demon’s chest. Animals could sniff out evil in much the same way that angels could, but Aziraphale couldn’t recall one _ever_ having taken against Crowley, despite his nature. Snuggled against his chest, the piglet was the very picture of trust, watching him with calm, happy eyes. And, for his part, Crowley was staring down at it with undisguised fondness. 

Swallowing hard and trying not to feel overly fond of his strangely kind-hearted demon, Aziraphale placed the drink and the bottle on the end table, clearing his throat. “Well, I’ll be off, then.”

Crowley smiled without looking up, shifting the piglet into one hand and cradling it firmly against his chest as he reached for the glass. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

“I won’t be long,” he promised, peeking down at the piglet again before turning and leaving the flat. 

He shopped quickly, buying several bottles, a small carrier, and a few fluffy toys that the piglet might enjoy snuggling with when Crowley was unavailable, then hurrying back to his flat. Crowley was not in the living room when he got back and, alarmed, Aziraphale dumped his purchases on the sofa and quickly searched the rest of the flat. It was surprising, but also a relief, to find Crowley and his charge in the flat’s bedroom. He was glad he’d thought to buy a bed at some point despite not actually sleeping much. 

The demon was laying on his side, one arm thrown wide and hanging off the edge of the mattress. The other was cradling the piglet against his bare chest, with as much easy tenderness as if he’d been rescuing and nursing small animals for his entire existence. Pillowed on the crumpled blanket, it nestled into the demon’s warm skin, resting but not sleeping. She looked up at Aziraphale’s entrance, eyes already brighter than they had been, then made a peaceful noise and closed her eyes again. It was a level of trust that should have been impossible from a wild animal. 

And, in an equally unusual show of trust, Crowley was sound asleep, despite being in the home of one of the few creatures on the planet who could have caused him real, lasting harm. There was something moving, and frightening, in the way his friend lay there, expression downright peaceful. As if he belonged here, as if he’d actually let his guard down for once. And, while Aziraphale wouldn’t have wanted Crowley to feel wary around him personally, if either of their respective superiors were to find him here like this…

Not that it was at all likely that either Heaven or Hell would ever think to peek in, and the angel was loath to wake him. Crowley liked his naps, and Aziraphale liked when Crowley engaged in hobbies that weren’t dangerous and didn’t involve tempting humans. Besides, the piglet was comfortable where she was, and rousing Crowley would disturb her, too. And they painted an absolutely darling picture together.

Smiling to himself, Aziraphale turned off the overhead light and slipped from the bedroom to prepare a bottle. He could feed the baby while Crowley slumbered, hopefully without waking him. Then, belly full, she could go right back to sleep against her living heating pad. That was all she really needed, after all: food, warmth, and love. If only helping humans was that easy. 

His friend Emily had assured him that regular cow’s milk was not only safe for piglets, but actually very much enjoyed by pigs of all ages. Not that he couldn’t have miracled up something else if necessary, but it was nice to know that she would enjoy her food, as well as benefiting from it nutritionally. He warmed the milk quickly, not bothering with the stove, and tested its temperature against the skin of his wrist, as he’d been instructed. He heated it a bit more after the first test, then decided it was too hot and cooled it again. 

It took him a few goes but, when the milk seemed perfect, he carried the bottle into the bedroom and perched carefully on the edge of the mattress. Reaching for the piglet, he edged it just ever so slightly away from Crowley, jumping at the demon’s response. 

He instantly came awake, eyes flashing as the lids snapped apart. Hissing long and low, the demon clutched the piglet to his chest, glaring for a moment before the sleep cleared from his eyes and he recognized the angel. Aziraphale had once seen a viper defending her brood from a mongoose, or some creature of the sort, and the hiss and glare reminded him of that. Something in him melted, both at Crowley’s protectiveness of the baby animal, and at the way he instantly relaxed when he realized it was just Aziraphale. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized, smiling sheepishly. “I was just going to give her a bottle while you were napping.” 

“Mmm, have I been out long?” he asked, yawning and arching his back. Aziraphale wondered, not for the first time, how many vertebrae that back actually contained to allow him to stretch like that. A great many more than the standard 33, obviously. 

“It can’t have been more than a few minutes. I wasn’t at the shop for long. You look comfortable. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” he suggested, reaching to turn the piglet’s head and nudging at her mouth with the nipple of the bottle.

The little one latched on immediately, suckling eagerly with a series of happy grunts.

“Someone was hungry,” Crowley noted, smiling fondly down at the animal in his hand for a moment, then closing his eyes again with a soft hum. “Guess they really do like milk.”

“Oh, yes. She’s _delighted_ with it! Can you feel it?” he asked, holding the bottle with one hand and gently stroking the piglet’s little head with one finger of his free hand. 

“Mmm, a bit,” he answered, not opening his eyes. “Relief, too, I think. Probably at the fact that us strange, pink-skinned creatures finally figured out she was hungry.”

Aziraphale chuckled, smiling down at the pair and doing his best not to think which one his sudden, almost overwhelming sense of fondness was aimed at. “Where did you find her?”

“Italy.”

“Oh, picking up more wine?”

“Working,” he answered, shaking his head faintly. “Tempting some poachers.”

He didn’t mean to gape at Crowley’s answer and, clearing his throat, he tentatively began, “Not to…”

“No, not Tempting them to poach. Even I have standardsss, angel,” the demon answered, opening his eyes and frowning. 

He was relieved, of course, but somehow not remotely surprised by that answer. “I know you do. I was afraid you might have been acting under orders.”

“No, no orders. I just really don’t like poachers,” Crowley admitted, giving a little half-smile and whispering, “Don’t tell Head Office.”

“Oh, of course not. I imagine that’s the sort of thing they rather encourage,” he answered, smiling, too, since his friend was no longer upset. “So what _were_ you Tempting them to?”

He hadn’t realized before that Crowley even _had_ the capacity to feel embarrassed, but his expression was suddenly sheepish, and a deep flush started to creep up his face and down his pale chest. Oh, dear, how depraved had it been to make Crowley, of all people, blush? Aziraphale felt his own cheeks start to color as the possibilities swirled through his mind. As an angel, he probably shouldn’t have been capable of some of the thoughts he was having right now, but he’d been living among humans for long enough to know _exactly_ how degenerately they could behave, even on their own. Throwing _Crowley_ into the mix…

“Never mind. I’m not certain I want to know after all.”

Crowley stared for a moment, then let out a cackle of laughter that made the piglet start for a moment before she went back to drinking her supper. “What filthy things are going on in your mind right now, angel?” he teased, smirking.

He sputtered at that, trying to glare at Crowley but failing since that would have involved actually maintaining eye-contact.

He must have taken pity on Aziraphale because, eventually, he explained, “It wasn’t dirty, angel, just not… the kind of thing I’d like getting out.”

Oh, dear. 

“Crowley, what did you do?” he asked, uneasily. Something Hell wouldn’t like? The consequences of that sort of thing were nauseating to even consider.

“I Tempted them to… well, to turn each other in to the police,” he murmured, head bowed and eyes on the piglet. 

His skin was almost as red as his hair by this point, which Aziraphale might have found charming, if not for the surge of worry the admission provoked. 

“You can’t… Tempt people to do good things when you aren’t covering for me, Crowley! What if someone noticed?”

He was still blushing, but he gave Aziraphale a cocky grin in answer. “Well, first I stirred up a lot of dissent within the group, so that’s Wrath, and then I _maaaaay_ have led them to believe that there would be a reward, so that’s Greed covered. And, technically, an argument could be made for Treachery, which Upstairs absolutely _hates_. And, if it makes Heaven mad, it can only make Hell happy, right?” he concluded, grinning from ear to ear.

The angel blinked as he considered those words. It was a very Crowley-esque line of thinking, but it must have taken him quite some time and effort to reason his way around to it. “You really _do_ hate poachers,” he finally whispered, clearing his throat and offering a weak smile. 

“Hunting for sustenance is one thing, but some people take it too far, and enjoy the actual killing part way too much.” Smirk returning, he added, “You kind of owe me a freebie now, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, without any real ire. “The fact that you decided to spend your free time inspiring virtue does not oblige me to behave nefariously during mine. That’s _not_ how the Arrangement works.”

Crowley laughed in agreement, eyes sparkling as he told him, “I had to at least try.”

“I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t,” he answered, glancing down at the piglet and biting his lip. “Oh, she’s fallen asleep again, hasn’t she?” he asked, warmth spreading through his chest. She was so darling, and so trusting. Just a beautiful, loving, _pure_ being. He’d missed that since the Garden, being so very close to such a pure creature. “Bless her little heart.”

Crowley grimaced a bit at the word ‘bless,’ but then smiled fondly up at Aziraphale for a moment, then quickly looked back down at the piglet. “My German’s a bit rusty, and I wasn’t really paying attention to your phone call, but I gather your friend is willing to take care of her?”

“Oh, she’ll be happy to,” he affirmed, nodding. “One of her sows just had babies, so this little beauty can join that litter with no problems.”

Crowley’s head shot up and his hand tightened around the piglet, his yellow eyes narrowed. “Your friend is a farmer?”

His tension was obvious, so Aziraphale hurried to clarify. “No, a breeder. Her pigs are never butchered. She breeds them for the German police.” 

Crowley opened his mouth, then shut it again, looking bemused. “Is that a… joke, Aziraphale? Pigs, police?”

He choked a little, then chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, no, not at all, Crowley. The German police use pigs to sniff for drugs.” 

“Drug-sniffing _pigs_?” the demon repeated incredulously.

“Just think how well they can sniff out truffles. Apparently their sense of smell is almost as acute as yours,” he answered, smiling down at Crowley. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t hand her over. I’m not sure I want my baby growing up to be a police officer,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“I think it makes sense, actually. Humans say that children often grow up to be the exact opposites of their parents,” he teased.

Crowley snorted at that, bending his head and planting a kiss behind the piglet’s ears. “Is that true? Going to rebel against me, little one?”

“Of course she is. She’s a good girl, nothing at all like you,” Aziraphale chuckled. 

“Oh, angel, I can be a _very_ good girl at times,” he crooned, fluttering his long eyelashes. And, Lord, that eyeliner made those beautiful eyes seem even larger and more snakelike. 

The angel felt himself coloring again and cleared his throat, trying to focus his attention on the piglet. “She needs a name.”

“A name?” Crowley repeated, frowning and looking thoughtful. 

“All Emily’s pigs have names.”

“Well, can’t have her not fitting in, can we? You didn’t happen to catch the name of her foster-mother-to-be?”

“Naomi,” the angel provided, since Emily had mentioned it, and spoken very fondly of the sow while doing so. 

“Ruthie, then. Naturally,” Crowley announced immediately, nodding. 

Aziraphale blinked at that, not just startled by the fact that Crowley knew details from the Book Of Ruth, but that he’d recalled them effortlessly and without prompting. For that matter, there was something positively _dissonant_ in the concept of Crowley citing the Bible without a trace of scorn or even amusement. He bit his lip, pushing down a sense of something akin to timidity. 

“I knew Ruth. The historic one, I mean. She was a wonderful young lady,” Aziraphale told him. “So full of affection.” 

“Pretty thing, too, wasn’t she?” he asked. 

“Not particularly, no. Plain face, really, and always looked a bit worried. But, when she smiled, her face _shone_.”

“Were you… sweet on her, angel?” he asked, both the pause and word-choice making it obvious that he was teasing.

Refusing to rise to the bait, he answered honestly, “She was a child when we first met. I Sheparded her for a bit, before she met Mahlon.”

“I should have known. Humans aren’t that absurdly loyal to others without an example like yours.”

“Don’t joke about her, Crowley,” he suggested, shaking his head and stroking the warm fur of the piglet’s back. “She had a good heart long before I came along. And she loved Naomi so very much.” 

Uncharacteristically, he immediately answered with, “Sorry. I’m sure she was a fine young lady.”

It was so genuine-sounding that Aziraphale couldn’t answer for a moment. Then he smiled, gently patting the piglet. “Will you bring her to Germany for me? It’s been more than thirty years since I saw Emily. I daresay she’d be more than a little startled to see that I haven’t changed one bit in all that time.” 

“Eh, sure, but you’ll definitely owe me one.”

“Next time we go to dinner, I’ll tempt another diner to have seconds for dessert.”

“Close enough,” Crowley chuckled, lifting the piglet to his face and kissing her head again. “What should I tell Miss Emily about you? You must be a doddering old man by now…”

“Spry for my age. Healthy, but beginning to slow down a bit, as is only to be expected. I would have loved to come see her, of course, but traveling at my age…”

“I’ll be sure to give her your warmest regards. Who is she? Old girlfriend?”

“I wish you’d stop implying such things,” he sighed, shaking his head. “She was _eight_ the last time we met in person.”

“Oh, a miracle.”

“Yes. Germany, September of ‘45.”

“Oof, busy month for you,” Crowley answered with a sympathetic smile, finally sitting up. “So, little Emily?”

“It was Germany, right after the war. Her family was dead, except for her and her infant brother. They were homeless and starving in the mountains. I fed them manna, and created a fire and held them close until their little bodies warmed. I knew a young couple looking to adopt, so I arranged it all for everyone.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t much at all, but she still writes me several times a year.” 

“And you write back?”

“Yes, of course. I could hardly _ignore_ her letters, after all. It would be rude!”

“You don’t usually keep in touch with the recipients of your miracles.” 

“Well, no. Most people either want to forget a time so dark that they _needed_ a miracle, or else they don’t let themselves realize that anything out of the ordinary happened. Therefore, nothing important enough to make them want to stay in touch, but Emily was insistent.”

“You summoned manna for her. Why does she think you’re human?”

“She was more than half delirious. She never realized. She’s convinced herself that I was a British soldier at the time, feeding her and her brother field rations in front of an earthly fire.”

“British soldier. Handy cover, that.”

“Yes,” he agreed, nodding. “Thank Heaven for delirium.” 

“And for human obliviousness. And you’re sure she’ll take good care of Ruthie?”

“Oh, the very best care. She loves animals. Far more than she cares for people, honestly. Ruthie will be in excellent hands,” Aziraphale promised, beaming.

How lovely he looked, sitting with the piglet cradled against his chest and smiling down at her, a smile that made the skin around his eyes crinkle into crow’s feet. For just a moment, he looked almost human, and that was strange, but beautiful. And also a bit alarming.

“Shame we can’t keep her, isn’t it?” he murmured, trying to take his mind off of Crowley’s strangely undemonic behavior.

“She’ll be too big for this tiny flat, soon. And… well, the way pigs root through dirt…”

“Your houseplants have enough worries already,” Aziraphale agreed, chuckling and biting his lip. “They’re very social creatures, pigs. If we kept her, she’d love us dearly. But she’ll be much happier with half a dozen siblings to curl up with whenever she likes.” 

“I’m not warm enough for you, Ruthie?” Crowley murmured, lifting the creature to eye-level.

She made a discontented noise at that, squirming in his hands until he returned her to his chest, then promptly snuggling back into his warm skin and going still again.

“She loves you,” the angel whispered, biting his lip at that realization. Demons weren't meant to inspire love in others. And yet…

“I saved her life. She’s probably biased,” he pointed out, grinning. He was silent for a few moments, then he added, “Thank you, Aziraphale.”

“What for?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

“For helping me… her. I healed her wounds, but she still would have died without your help.”

“I didn’t know it would mean so much to you,” he admitted, “but I am _quite_ pleased to have been of service to you both.”

They smiled at each other for a long moment, then Crowley closed his eyes, quickly scooping up the blanket and wrapping it around himself and the piglet. “I’ll miss her. Her skin is wonderfully warm.”

“Don’t you have heat lamps, or a heated mattress pad?”

“Both, actually. But it’s not the same as a warm, living body.” Crowley shrugged.

Aziraphale found himself wondering, just fleetingly, what that was like, a warm body against his, when he wasn’t in the middle of offering solace. A foolish bit of speculation, really. As an angel, he could never know. Or, at least, never know what it felt like with a human. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently took Ruthie from Crowley’s hands and hugged her to his chest, just to see.

Delightful. But he quickly passed her back, feeling that Crowley needed that warm, comforting pressure more than he did. For a moment, the demon stared at him with wide eyes, then closed his eyes and leaned over, all but wrapped himself around the piglet.

“We don’t have to bring her to Emily right away,” he whispered as he watched something inside Crowley warm and then dissolve as he held Ruthie close. 

The poor man must be as starved for physical contact as the piglet had been, and that was heartbreaking. But he forced himself to smile; he was an angel and must remain positive.

“It could take a few days for me to book train passage for you,” he whispered. “Would you be terribly put out if I asked you to take care of her until then?”

Crowley didn’t look up, or even open his eyes, but a smile touched his lips. “Not the greatest inconvenience you’ve ever put me to,” he answered, rocking the piglet gently back and forth. “And you’ll definitely be Tempting more than one person to a second dessert for this.”

He looked so vulnerable; even his _voice_ was timid. He couldn’t possibly have realized, so Aziraphale forced himself to ignore it. Back and forth Crowley rocked, gentle and loving of the helpless creature in his arms. The angel couldn’t openly acknowledge what he was seeing, or feeling, so he simply reached out and lightly grasped the demon’s shoulder instead. Crowley smiled again, without speaking or otherwise acknowledging him, either his presence or his touch. 

“You and Ruthie get some rest,” he whispered, climbing to his feet. At Crowley’s startled look, he continued, “It will take many, many days to arrange passage for you both to Germany. No point in _not_ being Slothful in the interval, is there? You need to offset that business in Italy somehow, after all.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Crowley answered, smiling and flopping down on the mattress, careful of the piglet still clutched to his chest.

“I imagine, young as she is, growing so fast, she needs rest more than anything else,” Aziraphale said, picking up the blanket and laying it over the two of them. “Rest and regular bottles.” 

“Yes. I’ll take care of her,” he promised, closing his eyes and absently stroking Ruthie’s furry back. 

Aziraphale smiled at that, smoothing down the blanket and resisting the urge to tuck it in and fluff Crowley’s pillows while he was at it. The two would draw tremendous comfort from each other, and that was a lovely thing. He would be back in a few hours with another bottle. In the meantime, he would leave dear Crowley to take what small solace he could in laying in the dark, on a comfortable mattress while holding that darling, loving little creature in his arms.

“Rest, dear ones,” he whispered, smoothing the blanket one more time and then stepping back.  
  
“Mmm, thanks again, angel,” he breathed, not opening his eyes. “Ruthie says thanks, too.”  
  
“Ruthie is, of course, most welcome,” Aziraphale assured him, smiling and leaving the pair to get some rest. 

  
He could hardly bear to relinquish the company of two such dear creatures, but he made himself step into the hallway and close the door behind himself. Oh, the joy they took in each other’s company… Smiling to himself, he headed downstairs to the shop and picked up his phone to make all the appropriate travel reservations. Later. Several days later.

**END**


End file.
